


sharing is caring

by oisugasuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Clothing Kink, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: He’s painfully aware of Oikawa’s eyes. They seem to trace over every inch of Suga — or rather, every inch that the damn Seijoh jacket is covering, outlining his shoulders and tracing over his neck and then down to mid-thigh. Suga shifts in his painfully red sneakers.Oikawa blinks once. Twice. His long eyelashes catch the gleam of the lights and Suga wishes he weren’t so pretty.





	sharing is caring

"He let you wear his _jacket_?"

 

Suga blinks. The boy — Iwaizumi, right? — leaning against the bathroom door looks like he either wants to laugh or stare and he doesn’t know which to pick… and it’s making Suga horribly self-conscious.

 

Suga shifts, the edge of one of the sinks digging into his hip briefly and then away as he fidgets. 

 

_The damn sleeves are too long_ , he thinks while he struggles for an answer to Iwaizumi’s blatant disbelief. They really are — they keep slipping down past his wrists and over his fingers. Suga pushes them back up but there they go again. 

 

Damn Oikawa for being so tall.

 

"Um, yeah, he, uh -," Suga stutters. Iwaizumi’s lips twitch.

 

"Don’t worry. It looks good on you. I’m just surprised. Shittykawa isn’t that great at sharing."

 

_Shittykawa_ , Suga thinks vaguely. _Huh, interesting._

 

"Thanks," he says out loud, flushing hot at Iwaizumi’s compliment. His voice sounds forced and he cringes inwardly but tonight has been… awkward to say the least so he’s used to it. 

 

He’s hyperaware of Oikawa’s old volleyball jacket hanging from his shoulders now that Iwaizumi’s eyes are on him — it’s soft and worn and it smells just faintly like cologne but also like the laundry soap Tooru always radiates and it’s _huge_ , slipping over Suga’s shorter, narrower limbs like an oversized hoodie.

 

It’s too big and Suga is drowning in it all.

 

But Oikawa had insisted on giving it to him, generous and pushy — despite Iwaizumi’s thoughts otherwise. 

 

Suga had said one thing — one tiny little complaint about it being too cold in the gym earlier, the two of them squished into the top bleachers — and Oikawa had whipped off the white and teal jacket and handed it to him without warning. 

 

Suga hadn’t even had time to properly refuse, stuttering and flushing hot. Oikawa was already gone, long legs striding down the stairs to go grab them something from concessions.

 

And _oh_ , had the other two friends in their little, high-school reunion group _stared_ at Suga once Oikawa had disappeared from view. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had looked like two hyenas watching a rabbit hop by — matching lazy leers and knowing gleams in their dark eyes — the moment Suga had jerked up and hurried off, using the bathroom as a desperate excuse to not be left alone with them.

 

Suga hadn’t been planning on wearing it. He really hadn’t… and then he’d been alone, in a high school bathroom in the middle of Seijoh — because he’d somehow let Oikawa convince him to come with him to watch his nephew play tonight — with Oikawa’s soft, soft jacket in his hands and it had just felt natural to pull it on.

 

He’d _blushed_ of all things the moment he’d seen himself in the mirror. 

 

_Wow_ , he thinks now. He’s like some fumbling, awkward teenager tonight and nowhere near the adult he’s supposed to be. 

 

Just because Oikawa has invited him to watch Takeru play — just because he’s buying them popcorn and he let Suga borrow his jacket — doesn’t _mean_ anything. Oikawa’s just being nice. 

 

"I can see you thinking from here."

 

Suga’s thoughts snap back to the present. Oh right. Iwaizumi is still here.

 

Oikawa’s best friend is smirking at Suga in a way that makes him fidget again… like Iwaizumi knows something he really shouldn’t. 

 

_Do they all do that?_ Suga wonders dimly. He feels like he’s been circling a group of wolves all night.

 

"Ah, sorry," he remembers to answer before the silence gets awkward. He wishes he would stop tripping over his own tongue. He’s been doing it all night — especially with "Makki" and "Mattsun"… they’ve been having fun torturing him, he can tell. "It’s been a long week."

 

"Yeah," Iwaizumi says, not unkindly. "Tooru’s been whining all day about how busy things are right now."

 

Suga can’t help but smile a little at that. He’s more than used to Oikawa’s dramatics.

 

"I don’t see how he hasn’t driven you away yet," Iwaizumi continues.

 

"Oh," Suga laughs lightly. "He’s come close, that’s for sure." It’s only half a joke.

 

Really, it had been their first meeting that had threatened to end things before they had even started.

 

Oikawa had been cold and distant. Suga had been unyielding.

 

It had been unfair, Suga had thought at the time. Unfair to judge Suga straight away just because Karasuno had ruined Seijoh’s chances to get at Ushijima.

 

But with time he had begun to understand.

 

_"You guys are like two sides to a coin,"_ Daichi had teased later on, when Suga had talked to him over the phone on the floor in the apartment hallway late one night — eating shrimp chips that Oikawa had miraculously decided to buy Suga for no given reason. It had been odd but not unappreciated… the first white flag between the two of them.

 

And Suga hadn’t really gotten it then, what Daichi meant… but now he thinks he might.

 

"I bet," Iwaizumi scoffs, not moving. Outside the bathroom door Suga can just hear the muffled sounds of people talking — it’s nearing a break in the game and Suga’s sure Oikawa isn’t the only one in line for snacks. "He makes you binge horror movies on weeknights, doesn’t he? And he leaves his stupid alien plushies anywhere you might trip on them and break your neck, right?"

 

Suga laughs now, outright. Iwaizumi isn’t nearly as terrifying as Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Not now that they’re alone and Iwaizumi is smiling, the look softening out his intensely dark eyes and sharp mouth.

 

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Suga agrees. He stops fidgeting with Oikawa’s jacket’s sleeves and just lets them hang down around his fingers. "But I don’t mind," he adds, like an afterthought.

 

It surprises him, kind of — those words. 

 

He had used to mind. Not about that stuff — the horrible movies and the tripping hazards in the living room. But about other things… Oikawa’s defensiveness. The way he sulked for hours at a time after an argument and the way he used to bring people home at all times of the night, giggling and drunk and loud and _distracting_.

 

He’d stopped doing that recently, Suga had noticed. Not the other things — just the one-nighters that kept Suga up at night until he walked into the kitchen with the same bloodshot eyes Oikawa was sporting the next morning.

 

And Suga had despised how happy he’d been when it had stopped, suddenly and abruptly. 

 

He had despised how relieved he had felt because it would probably start up again once final exams were over and the holidays had passed.

 

Iwaizumi blinks at him. He looks surprised for a moment and suddenly Suga is self-conscious again. Had he said something wrong?

 

"Um, well -," Suga starts, fingers clenched in the fabric drowning them again. 

 

But Iwaizumi interrupts.

 

"I’m glad," he says quietly and Suga squints at him, wondering if he’s imagining that look in Iwaizumi’s eyes. The bathroom smells faintly of bleach and it stings at the back of Suga’s throat and that has to be why he can’t respond.

 

That has to be why. It’s not because Iwaizumi is looking at him like he’s said something groundbreaking or amazing.

 

"I’m going to head back, Sugawara-san," Iwaizumi continues, clearing his throat. His scuffed-up tennis shoes squeak over the tile just a little when he turns. "I’ll see you out there, yeah?"

 

Suga nods. His voice still feels like it won’t work.

 

Iwaizumi smiles once more and it transforms his face again and Suga fidgets as he pushes the door open to step out, breathing a quiet sigh of relief… until Iwaizumi pauses, there in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. Then Suga goes still, waiting for… whatever it is.

 

Iwaizumi hesitates, like he’s debating with himself about something. He licks his lips, glances back out the door like he’s expecting to see someone, and then looks back. 

 

Suga swallows hard.

 

And then…

 

"He talks about you a lot," Iwaizumi mutters quickly, almost too low for Suga to catch it. "Like, all the time. You’re good for him."

 

All Suga can do is blink. All he can do is stare.

 

All he can do is stay frozen as Iwaizumi grins once more and then disappears, the door swinging and enclosing Suga back in privacy.

 

_What?_ Suga thinks. 

 

Then he glances sideways and catches sight of his own face. His eyes are too bright. They threaten to spill all of his secrets and he blinks quickly, turns on the tap.

 

His ears are burning, he can feel it. His mouth feels sticky. Iwaizumi’s words are echoing on the tile walls and Oikawa’s jacket is heavy and warm and oh -

 

Suga rucks the sleeves up to his elbows. He cups his hands under the faucet and he lets the cold water run over his fingers and he focuses just on that. He splashes some of it over his hot face and then blinks past the droplets clinging to his eyes, stares at himself.

 

_Stop it_ , he thinks quietly to his reflection. _Iwaizumi was just being nice._

 

_You’re good for him._

 

The words are still there though. They hover and beat and flap around Suga’s head and all he can see are his bright, bright eyes and the glow on his face and the teal of Oikawa’s jacket clashing with the silver of his own hair and the wanting, the longing, the emotions that have been threatening to expose themselves to everyone all fucking night -

 

The door swings open.

 

Suga jerks away from the sink, turning sideways, heart thumping in his chest…

 

"Kou-chan? Is something wrong? Iwa-chan said you needed help …"

 

Oh God. Oh no. Not now.

 

Because it’s Oikawa. It’s Oikawa — standing there in the middle of the tile and the harsh, white fluorescents and the sterile clarity of bleach — and Suga would much rather it be Hanamaki or Matsukawa or fuck, anyone else.

 

Because Suga feels like he’s exposed under all of this white, stripped bare to the bone, and Oikawa’s words are trailing off as soon as he catches sight of him and really, Suga shouldn’t feel this stuck — a deer in headlights.

 

But he does because Oikawa seems like it too, stopping dead still in the middle of the bathroom. The only thing that moves are his eyes and Suga wishes they didn’t do that — he wishes Oikawa wouldn’t _look_ at him like that, eyes drinking him in and oh. Oh, Oikawa’s looking at his jacket.

 

Oikawa’s looking at _his_ jacket that Suga still embarrassingly has draped over his shoulders. The damn sleeves have fallen back down too. Suga’s getting the cuffs wet with his damp fingers.

 

Silence reigns down over the two of them. There’s just Iwaizumi’s voice — beating at the inside of Suga’s skull — and Oikawa’s eyes and Suga’s brain can’t comprehend what’s happening right now. He can’t comprehend why Oikawa is still just staring at him, like he’s been dumbstruck.

 

He looks like Suga’s smacked him in the face or something — eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. He’s gaping like a fish out of water.

 

_You’re good for him._

 

"He said what?" 

 

That’s Suga’s voice, finally. It rasps up out of his throat like he’s swallowed an entire gallon of bleach and it’s scoured his throat raw. He’s painfully aware of the fact that his face is still wet too, water trickling down from his bangs to his cheeks and down over his chin.

 

He’s painfully aware of Oikawa’s eyes. They seem to trace over every inch of Suga — or rather, every inch that the damn Seijoh jacket is covering, outlining his shoulders and tracing over his neck and then down to mid-thigh. Suga shifts in his painfully red sneakers.

 

Oikawa blinks once. Twice. His long eyelashes catch the gleam of the lights and Suga wishes he weren’t so pretty. He shouldn’t look so good, not in here. The lights should wash him out like the rest of them.

 

But Oikawa only seems to suck in all of that light and radiate it back out.

 

_Shut up_ , Suga thinks viciously to himself. _Jesus._

 

"Um," Oikawa starts, clearing his throat when his voice comes out odd. "Iwa-chan, he - I mean he - he said you -"

 

Suga wants to move but he can’t. Oikawa’s _stuttering_. He’s stumbling over his words like he’s drunk… but Suga knows the only thing either of them have had all night has been some lukewarm soda from the back of his car. He imagines he can taste that stale sweetness now, cloying and thick in the back of his throat.

 

"He said you needed some help with something," Oikawa finally spits out. His cheeks are red, Suga notices, and the realization makes him more antsy. God he wants to move. He wants to push past Oikawa and back out into the crowd and the smell of popcorn and the squeak of the mopped, high school hallways.

 

But his cherry-red sneakers are stuck. They’re glued down.

 

Oikawa’s being weird and Iwaizumi is too. Are Hanamaki and Matsukawa playing some trick on them? Was this their idea? Suga’s only met them tonight but they seem like the type to do something like lock the bathroom doors or steal the popcorn when no one’s looking.

 

_Needed help?_ Suga’s mind continues to whirl. He hadn’t said anything to Iwaizumi about needing any help…

 

_He talks about you a lot. You’re good for him._

 

Oh.

 

Oh no.

 

"I don’t need anything," Suga chokes out. His cheeks are burning.

 

God damn it.

 

Suddenly Iwaizumi’s words and Oikawa’s match together.

 

Iwaizumi knows. He’s seen it on Suga’s face and he’d thought… he’d thought that Oikawa, for all of his talk, feels the same way.

 

He _thinks_ Oikawa feels the same way.

 

God, this is a mess. Suga takes a deep breath. He schools his features into something he hopes is halfway normal.

 

"We should head back out, right?" he manages. "The break will be over soon."

 

Oikawa begins to nod, still in some sort of daze, but then he stops. He bites his lower lip. He won’t stop _staring_.

 

"Tooru," Suga says, without thinking. All he wants is to leave. All he wants is to go before Oikawa figures it out too. 

 

Before he realizes that Suga has been falling in love with him little by little every day and before he sees it in the brightness of his eyes under all of these harsh, white lights.

 

But if Suga had been hoping that his voice would break Oikawa from whatever daze he’s in, he’d been terribly wrong.

 

At the sound of his first name, Oikawa’s eyes flash from where they’re still soaking in the white and teal zipped up over Suga’s torso and he takes a step forward instead of backwards.

 

Suga swallows. He’s confused now. He’s confused and worried and desperately trying to hide the thrill that shoots through his stomach at the movement.

 

"Oikawa, are you feeling okay?" he squeaks out. Maybe his roommate wants his jacket back? Is that why he looks like that? Is that why he won’t look away from Suga, not even once?

 

At that question, finally, something like a grin flashes over Oikawa’s face. Humor sparks in his dark eyes.

 

It’s amusement at the break in Suga’s voice, he knows it. _Asshole_ , he can’t help but think, frowning a little. 

 

He’s relieved though. His own annoyance helps break at least a little bit of whatever odd tension is hovering in the bleached air.

 

"What is wrong with you?" Suga mutters, beyond glad that his voice sounds normal now. He can do this. Oikawa won’t ever know. He’ll never know because Suga can do this — he can hide his feelings so well that not even those white lights can pry them out of him.

 

"Kou-chan," Oikawa finally speaks, grinning a little wider now. It’s familiar and comforting — that sharp-tipped, teasing smile that _always_ crosses his face when he’s about to do something Suga won’t like.

 

Before Suga knows it, Oikawa is there. He’s right in front of him and Suga tilts his head back and holds his ground, unyielding.

 

"You can’t go out there looking like a drowned rat, ya know. I have a reputation to uphold."

 

Suga scowls. He tries not to notice just how _close_ Oikawa is, the tips of their sneakers brushing.

 

"I just splashed some water on my face," he defends. "I was hot."

 

"Pfft, but you were cold in the gym," Oikawa points out and Suga is stuck for a response.

 

"Yeah, exactly," Oikawa hums, low and quiet. It sends unnecessary shivers over Suga’s bare skin. Or maybe that’s just because Oikawa is so close that he can count his eyelashes and feel his body heat. So close that Suga can see the faintest of freckles on Oikawa’s nose and smell his deodorant.

 

"Here," Oikawa is saying suddenly and Suga barely has time to move before Oikawa’s long fingers are clutching at one of those too-long sleeves and raising it to wipe off some water caught under Suga’s right eye.

 

"Oikawa," Suga protests quickly, surprised, "your jacket -"

 

"Looks really good on you," Oikawa says unexpectedly, interrupting.

 

Suga’s eyes flash up from where he’s attempting to pull back a little to avoid wiping his damp skin all over Oikawa’s old but pristine high school, volleyball jacket. His heart skips a solid thump.

 

When Iwaizumi had said that, it had made Suga flush with embarrassment.

 

But the way Oikawa says it… the sound of those words on his tongue sends a whole different kind of heat through Suga’s stomach.

 

And he can’t think suddenly. Not when Oikawa is looking at him. Not when Oikawa is looking at him like _that_.

 

Oikawa’s serious now, all traces of mischief gone. He seems to tower over Suga, tall and close. His eyes are too dark.

 

And they search Suga’s face. They pry and they dig and they look and Suga can’t hide. Not now. He can’t hide under these lights and Oikawa’s stare, not all at once. Not with this stupid jacket enfolding him in Oikawa’s scent.

 

He can’t. Not now when Oikawa is this close and Suga wants so much it hurts.

 

He should. He should be hiding. He should be stepping back because Oikawa is giving him time to but something… Suga can see something too, there in Oikawa’s face, and it makes him stay.

 

Besides, he can’t hide. Not here and not now. Not after so long.

 

And especially not when Oikawa kisses him.

 

Suga feels like he should be more surprised but in some ways, he’s been waiting for this.

 

Oikawa kisses him without warning but Suga sees it coming almost. 

 

That doesn’t help him any though.

 

He’s still frozen solid. He’s still unable to do anything but stop breathing and feel.

 

The kiss comes and goes, quick and soft. Oikawa still has his fingers twisted in one of his jacket’s sleeves and his mouth is warm and hesitant, like he’s testing the waters.

 

When he pulls back and speaks, Suga feels it against his mouth. He feels Oikawa breathe the words out, low and quiet and serious.

 

"I’m going to kiss you again, Kou-chan. If that’s okay."

 

Suga thinks he nods. Again sounds nice.

 

He thinks he manages to tilt his head but the second kiss is happening before he can be sure. Oikawa is catching his mouth with his own before Suga can even begin to process the first time.

 

Oikawa kisses him longer this time. 

 

He doesn’t move any closer. He just kisses Suga longer and slower, barely moving their mouths together but managing to overwhelm Suga’s senses all the same.

 

This time, Suga has more time to feel.

 

His eyes flutter shut. He feels his shoulders relax, loosening under the pleasant warmth of Oikawa’s lips on his. His fingers twitch at his sides, in the grip Oikawa still has on his wrist, keeping one arm suspended between them.

 

Oikawa kisses him firmly, inhaling through his nose and pushing back in when Suga makes no move to leave. 

 

He kisses him so slow that Suga feels like he could break apart, right now, something hot and heavy seeping through his bones with the agonizing, torturous pace of it.

 

Oikawa kisses him with all of the skill of someone who’s no stranger to this.

 

That thought is like another splash of ice-cold water to the face.

 

Suga jerks back, catching his breath sharply. He feels like his stomach’s just dropped out from under him.

 

"Koushi-," Oikawa says, voice thick and off-kilter, but it’s enough to break through the rest of the haze clouding Suga’s muddled brain.

 

He steps back and Oikawa’s fingers drop and suddenly Suga is cold again. He feels cold all over, a prickle that pushes away any of the pleasantness from before.

 

How long? How long will Oikawa be interested with him?

 

What is this even? Oikawa can’t — _doesn’t_ — like him like that. He can’t. Suga’s seen no sign of it, not in the past three months.

 

_This_ , Suga thinks. _This is a mistake._

 

"I’ve got to -," he tries, but the words get lodged somewhere in his throat. They get stuck and Suga feels so raw, scrubbed down to nothing by the sterile bathroom — exposed and lost.

 

So he moves instead. Finally, finally, his sneakers move for him, pushing past Oikawa to cross the tile floor and shove out into the rest of the school. 

 

And Suga thinks he hears — no, he _knows_ he hears — Oikawa’s voice calling his name from behind him as he hurries past the gymnasium and down the dark hall to the parking lot, but he can’t stop.

 

Suga can’t go back. Not even though he’s still wearing Oikawa’s jacket and he needs to give it back.

 

He should’ve never put it on in the first place.

 

———————————————

 

The apartment is blessedly warm when Suga gets back, shoving through and kicking off his shoes at the front.

 

His fingers are frozen. The chill of October had seemed to get stronger in the few hours spent shivering in Seijoh’s gym and Suga is just glad to be back indoors after the long walk home.

 

Oikawa hadn’t followed him. Or, at least, Suga had evaded him well enough to avoid him catching up.

 

A thick pang of guilt bleeds and drips down into the pit of his stomach.

 

He shouldn’t have - he should’ve have just disappeared like that. Oikawa’s texted him, Suga sees, pulling out his phone with numb fingers.

 

Oikawa’s texted and called, nearly repetitively.

 

And the others… God, the others have too. Missed calls and text messages and Oikawa must’ve given them all Suga’s number.

 

Suga curses under his breath. He shuts his bedroom door and leans back against it, slides down to the floor.

 

_I’m okay. I’m home._ His fingers falter over the words but eventually he hits send, thrust forward by his guilt. He sends the text to the number identifying itself as Iwaizumi.

 

And then he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, thumping against the wood. 

 

He’s still wearing Oikawa’s jacket, Suga realizes tiredly. He should probably take it off.

 

But he’s too exhausted. Suddenly he feels heavy. 

 

He’s screwed up. Not just by leaving but by… everything. He should’ve just brushed Oikawa off in the bathroom. He should’ve gone back to the game.

 

But… but Oikawa had kissed him and Suga can’t stop feeling the heat of it against his mouth. He can’t stop remembering it.

 

"Fuck, Koushi," Suga mutters out loud, thumping his head back once more. Now things are ruined.

 

Things are so fucked. Oikawa is his _roommate_ and on top of that, his roommate who he’s just begun to settle into a comfortable, easy-going routine with.

 

Oikawa is his roommate and his friend. He’s the guy who sleeps in the bedroom across the hall who has never settled down, not once, with anyone. Suga can’t remember the last time Oikawa’s actually dated someone.

 

So Suga has kept his own feelings off-limits. It doesn’t matter if he’s ridiculously, stupidly in love with Oikawa. It doesn’t matter because Oikawa will never give Suga what he really wants.

 

Suga rubs at his eyes with a hand. He gets up slowly and drifts over to his bed and collapses onto it, face-down. He inhales his laundry soap and his shampoo and turns his head to the side, sighing. 

 

Then his phone buzzes in the right-side pocket of Oikawa’s jacket.

 

_I’m so sorry, Sugawara. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I told Tooru you were okay but if you don’t want him to come back right now, tell me, okay? He’s going to leave in the next two minutes if you don’t tell me otherwise._

 

Suga stares at Iwaizumi’s text message. His heart feels weird in his chest, all twisted and jumpy. His stomach is a mess of knots.

 

Sitting up, Suga crosses his legs in the middle of his mattress and stares at his phone screen.

 

Should he tell Iwaizumi to stop Oikawa? Does he want him to come home now so they can just face everything head-on or would he rather sleep and tackle it in the morning?

 

Is Oikawa upset?

 

Slowly, Suga taps out a response.

 

_No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. He can come home._

 

Too late does Suga realize how that last sentence sounds out loud… but it’s too late now. He winces and then gets up, throwing his phone down on his bed and meandering to the kitchen.

 

He can’t just sit. His nerves threaten to swallow him whole now, shaking down through his fingers at the knowledge that Oikawa is headed this way.

 

What is he going to say? What is Oikawa going to say? What is he thinking, right now?

 

Suga tries to slow the crash of his thoughts. He tries to suffocate the memory of Oikawa in the bathroom, so close. 

 

_Just breathe_ , his mind reassures him. _It’s not the end of the world. You guys kissed. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. Just tell Oikawa that you don’t like him that way. Just lie like you always do._

 

The last thought sits heavy on his chest. But he knows he’s right. That’s the best way to go.

 

Right now though, Suga really needs a drink of something.

 

He’s reaching for a mug in the cabinet when he realizes that he’s still wearing the jacket. Groaning inwardly, he shucks it off and tosses it over one of the chairs around their tiny kitchen table. Cool air takes its place, shivering through his thin, long-sleeved t-shirt.

 

It’s soon replaced by the hazy warmth of a bit of whiskey Suga finds on top of their fridge. He doesn’t usually drink when he’s nervous… but tonight seems like a good enough reason.

 

Besides, it’s just a bit. Just a swallow to dull the thud thud thud of his heart against his ribs.

 

His phone goes off a moment later, in the bedroom, and Suga tries not to walk too fast to get it, squinting at the screen in the dark.

 

_I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered._

 

There’s a pause of a few seconds and then a second message slides in. Suga bites his lower lip and takes another swallow of whiskey, reading.

 

_Oikawa’s not a bad guy. He’s an idiot… but just give him a chance, if you still feel like it._

 

Suga doesn’t even remember what he responds. All he knows is that then he’s warm and sleepy… and that Oikawa makes it home in record time.

 

Suga has just sat down on the couch in the living room, waiting, when he hears the key in the lock of the front door.

 

The next moment there he is, standing in the living room entrance, meeting Suga’s gaze automatically.

 

Suga’s fingers clench around the mug in his hands. His throat burns — this time with alcohol instead of the smell of bleach. His heart won’t stop banging around in the base of his throat.

 

Oikawa looks… disarrayed. His hair falls over his forehead in a messy tangle — tousled by the wind or whether he was running, Suga can’t tell. It looks more like the latter, if his flushed cheeks and rapidly falling chest are anything to go by. He’s still in his sweatpants and t-shirt and Suga notices that he hasn’t even bothered to take off his shoes at the front.

 

Suga stands up. He feels oddly small curled up on the couch like that.

 

"Oikawa," he starts first, before Oikawa even has the chance to say anything. God this is going to hurt. "I’m sorry I left. I know that was a pretty shitty thing to do."

 

He raises his chin, fueled on by the sound of his voice even if it’s a tad bit shaky.

 

Oikawa just watches, oddly quiet.

 

"I needed to get some space." A falter. A pause. Then, "I don’t know what -"

 

Suga breaks off again. This is harder than he’d been expecting. He doesn’t know where to start.

 

It doesn’t help that Oikawa is right there. He’s so close and after getting to touch him once, Suga’s traitorous body wants to do it again. His mouth remembers the weight of Oikawa’s kisses even more now. The whiskey burns and licks at the pit of his stomach.

 

Suga kind of wishes Oikawa would speak up as he falters… but the other is still just looking at him and Suga can’t really read his face. Is he angry? Confused? Hurt?

 

All three?

 

"You don’t know…," Oikawa finally supplies and Suga jerks at the sound of his voice. It’s quiet and low… and still Suga can’t read him. He sets his mug down on the coffee table before he ends up dropping it… and he’s glad he does because Oikawa isn’t finished.

 

"You don’t know what, Kou-chan?"

 

Suga tries not to melt into a puddle on the floor the next time Oikawa speaks. It’s hard. Oh it’s so, so hard — Oikawa’s voice wraps around the nickname like velvet. Suga wonders if he’s doing that on purpose. Probably.

 

"I don’t know why you kissed me."

 

There it is. Finally, Suga spits it out. He clenches his fingers into fists by his sides.

 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow. He’s aiming for nonchalance then, despite the palpable tension between them. "That’s what you -"

 

"Oikawa." Suga’s voice is tired. "Please. Just answer the question."

 

He doesn’t know why he’s asking really. Does it matter?

 

But Oikawa goes quiet and then still and his face straightens out and then scrunches up and Suga just waits for the answer.

 

After this, he thinks, he wants to crawl into bed and sleep for a million years. They’ll be okay, he knows they will. He just needs some rest.

 

And Oikawa… Oikawa needs to give up on whatever brief interest he may have. Whatever fleeting physical attraction this is.

 

Maybe it’s because they’re roommates. Maybe spending so much time together has -

 

"I really liked you in my jacket."

 

Suga scoffs the moment Oikawa speaks. He can’t help it. It just slips out because - because - that answer is so -

 

"Suga, wait. I know it sounds stupid. I didn’t mean it like -"

 

Suga swallows hard. He has to speak up now. The pit of his stomach twists with dread.

 

They’ll be okay. Eventually.

 

"Oikawa, this isn’t about whether or not you liked me in your jacket. What am I supposed to do with that?"

 

Suga’s voice has Oikawa shutting his mouth, watching him again with those intensely dark eyes that Suga still feels like are looking right through him and unraveling him piece by piece.

 

Those eyes make the words bubble up.

 

"You liked me in your jacket, okay, sure. But that’s all it was. Just a fleeting attraction. I won’t deny that I think you’re attractive too. Don’t let that go to your head, either. Physical attraction isn’t everything."

 

Jesus, he’s babbling. Suga hears the words leave his mouth and he wants to stop but he can’t. He supposes he can just add another embarrassing, awkward moment to his night.

 

"So you thought I looked good in your jacket? So what? What am I supposed to do then? Huh? What am I supposed to do about how I fee-"

 

Suga clamps his mouth shut just in time… but maybe not by enough.

 

He knows Oikawa too well by now. He knows when the other has latched onto something someone else thinks he’s missed and there it fucking is, flashing over his pretty face.

 

_Good job, Koushi_ , Suga thinks. _Way to go._

 

His tongue is dry. He’s said too much and it makes his nervous heart slam in tandem with the rushing noise in his ears.

 

"How you feel?" Oikawa asks. And his voice is so open, so vulnerable for the first time tonight, that Suga bites his lower lip and can’t answer.

 

"Forget it," he mutters after a beat. "Please."

 

He just needs to go to bed. He needs to go to bed before he screws things up for them more. Oikawa doesn’t deserve this. Suga doesn’t either.

 

But Oikawa is shaking his head fervently.

 

"Koushi, what did you mean? Come on, please tell me."

 

Suga groans inwardly. Damn Oikawa for being so - so - _everything_. Sweet and petulant and persuasive. Good-looking, like Suga had just admitted. Considerate and guarded and sometimes quick to jump to jealousy, but good. An idiot frequently too, but endearing and kind and hard-working.

 

_Oikawa’s not a bad guy._

 

_Yeah_ , Suga finds himself thinking, glancing down at his dark and silent phone on one of the couch cushions. _He’s not. He’s anything but._

 

"Okay," Oikawa says softly. "I won’t push you, Kous- I mean, Suga. I’m really sorry about the kiss. I didn’t - I mean I - "

 

Suga takes a grounding breath. Boy does he hope he knows what he’s getting ready to do.

 

"We can try."

 

Oikawa stops trying to search for words immediately. Suga’s ears are ringing. He literally wants to disappear, face flushing hot… but he knows Oikawa would never let him even if he could sink down below the floorboards. Not now.

 

"What?"

 

"I said we can try. If you want, I mean. If you actually… if you actually feel something more besides just liking me in your stupid jacket."

 

Suga bites his tongue after he’s done speaking. The alcohol has faded now. It had been a measly amount anyway but it’s definitely gone and his body feels lukewarm, shivering somewhere between regret and hope.

 

Oikawa is quiet only a moment longer — just enough to make Suga fidget.

 

Then, "I do want to. I want to try. I’ve never… but I do. With you. Yeah. Yes."

 

Suga almost smiles. Oikawa is too endearing for his own good sometimes.

 

It doesn’t hurt that those words — all of them — warm Suga right back up, jacket or not.

 

"Okay," he says softly. 

 

For a moment, it’s quiet. Suga isn’t really sure what else to say and Oikawa doesn’t look like he can think of anything either.

 

_Awkward moment number one million_ , Suga thinks wryly, glancing from Oikawa’s bright face to the kitchen and back again.

 

He guesses they should go to bed. They can talk more in the morning…

 

"Mm, but Kou-chan?"

 

"Yeah?" Suga braces himself for _that_ look — that sharp-tipped, teasing smile that _always_ crosses Oikawa’s face when he’s about to do something Suga won’t like.

 

"Maybe you can put the jacket back on? I mean, just so I can be sure…"

 

Suga is across the room in a heartbeat and the sound of Oikawa’s pained squawk when he punches him in the ribs fills up the silence perfectly.

 

———————————————

 

" _Tooru._ "

 

The name slips from between Suga’s lips on an embarrassing moan… but Oikawa has him in his lap and their mouths crushed together faster than Suga has time to feel satisfied.

 

Sure, he’d thought the jacket would have _some_ effect on his boyfriend when he came home to Suga wearing it… but honestly? Manhandling Suga to the couch before he even had time to say hello?

 

"You’re ridiculous," Suga gasps out against the corner of Oikawa’s mouth the moment the taller college student lets him breathe. He tightens his thighs around Oikawa’s hips and braces his palms against his boyfriend’s chest, fingers caught in those too-long sleeves.

 

"Mm, I’m not. You’re just hot. Especially in my jacket." Oikawa’s voice is low and thick with desire and boy, does that send Suga’s head spinning. 

 

Suga just has the time to laugh breathlessly and begin to formulate a response before Oikawa pulls him back down.

 

Unfortunately, he loses his retort somewhere between the time that Oikawa lifts him up to carry him to his bedroom and then when his voice is in Suga’s ear, asking him to keep the damned zip-up on.

 

But it’s okay.

 

Because it’s been two months and Suga has never been happier for a stupid volleyball jacket than he is right now.

**Author's Note:**

> c(＞ω＜)ゞ
> 
> the [blog](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


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